


let's dance

by rbbsbb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29321328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbbsbb/pseuds/rbbsbb
Summary: 1970 AU. Harry Styles is the lead singer of The Rolling Stones. Louis Tomlinson is the androgynous Ziggy Stardust. A friendship among gods is in the making.(Or, a historically inaccurate introduction of Harry as Mick Jagger and Louis as David Bowie.)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	let's dance

**Author's Note:**

> just an old drabble i found in my doc that i wanted to share... harry as mick jagger and louis as david bowie... 
> 
> warning for cocaine use!

They met at a party in the heart of London.

With glitter falling from the sky and Noddy Holder’s thick, raspy accent screaming along to his newest hit, Louis was three lines in and feeling like a fucking god. The world turned at his fingertips, the floor shook with each stomp of his feet. 

With two birds hanging at his waist, hands and nails clawing at his chest, his back, his throat, Louis was anything but human. A monster among men, an ethereal being with no beginning or end. 

Across the room, a mirror man with the face of a creature and limbs that stretched out for miles, long beyond Louis’ field of vision, watched without a care in the world. He looked so calm and cool, even as the stardust swirled around him like magic. 

Louis caught his stare, and held it as he jumped and rolled–as he let himself be anything and anyone and everyone. The man looked unreal, and made Louis feel as though he wasn’t alone, an alien in such a foreign world. 

His veins were coursing with pure euphoria, a synthetic concoction of all human emotions. For a moment, with shouts and hollers all around him, Louis felt himself flying. Above it all, a star in the sky, he allowed himself to move and morph. To burn bright and white hot, all consuming.

The girls fell from his side with each swoop of his wings, each step of his feet. Between one blink and the next he was across the room, and the creature he’d been watching watch him was right there, buggy eyes blinking hard and fat mouth quirking at the corners. 

His face didn’t fit him, but something about the way he’d looked, drenched in glitter and gold, had Louis reaching out and grabbing at his face. 

Without acknowledging Louis’ prodding, the guy asked, “You’re Ziggy, ain’t you?” 

Still groping at the man’s cheeks, his chin and lips, Louis sucked on his teeth. It wasn’t a mask he was feeling at, it was real skin. “Depends who’s asking.” It almost made him angry, touching at this human, being made a fool for thinking he was more. 

The man said, “I’m Harry,” not bothering to fight against Louis’ hands. 

He let Louis explore his face, looking curious, intrigued. The stardust clung to his cheeks when Louis tried to wipe it away. 

“What are you?” Louis asked, letting his eyes travel over the dent on his chin, then his cupid’s bow. 

“I’m a rockstar, don’t you know?” 

When Louis didn’t reply, just let his mouth lazily open, breathing in the air around them, Harry chuckled, finally lifting his hands to press his long, wiry fingers against Louis’ wrists. His skin was warm, and his movements were gentle, but Louis couldn’t feel much of anything. 

“Whatever you’ve taken, can I get some?” Harry asks, thumb pressing against Louis’ pulse point. 

He should have pulled away. He should have let himself exist among the posers. He should have found himself a girl to pull and let himself pretend for awhile. 

Instead, Louis nodded, and after a moment more of just letting himself be held by this curious little human, he dragged both of their hands down so that he could reach into his pocket. 

“Good stuff, this shit,” Louis murmured, lifting a small baggie up to Harry’s face. 

After Harry dropped Louis and squinted at the coke, he glanced around them to the writhing crowd. As Louis opened it up and stuck a spit slick finger inside, rubbing some of it against his own gums, Harry gestured to the bathroom. “Come with me, yeah? Too crowded in here.” 

Louis nodded and let himself be led away from the crowd. 

Once they closed the door behind them and were alone in the almost silence, only interrupted by the booming bass seeping through the walls, Louis leaned back against the sink and lulled his head. His muscles felt heavy under his skin, weighing him down despite how alive he felt. 

“Hand it here, then,” Harry said, lifting a hand. 

Louis passed the baggie his way, blinking up at him. In the yellow light, much brighter than before, the guy looked even more wild. With hair for days, all floppy and in his eyes, and too big shoulders that poured from his neck like the mountains, Louis wondered if maybe he was just good at pretending to be human. 

“You’re weird,” Louis said, a whisper in the air. Harry leaned down beside him to line a hit up on the counter, and huffed at him. 

“You’re one to talk,” Harry replied, more conversationally than anything. “Got the whole world wondering if you’re a man, or a woman, or something in between.”

Louis laughed, and he took a moment to remember for himself. “What do you think I am?”

“Why, you’re just Ziggy,” Harry said, and then pressed his nose right up against the counter, sniffing short and hard. He sputtered after, and scrunched up his face in an unattractive way. 

He looked back at Louis, and wiped at his nose, blinking a few times. Then, he smiled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asked, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said earnestly. “Do you need defining?”

Louis thought for a moment, his mind going so much faster than usual. It all felt like slow motion somehow, like the part of him that was more angel than human was counteracting the drugs, fighting the purity. It came to him eventually, and he shrugged, saying, “I guess not. How do you know me, anyways?”

“Hard not to,” Harry said. He turned and leaned against the sink, body mirroring Louis’ as he lifted his arms. “You’re quite the character.” He raised a finger and waved it at Louis, brows scrunching. “And, not to sound so full of myself, but I’m surprised you haven’t realized who I am yet.”

“Am I meant to know?” Louis wonders out loud. He’s faintly aware of how he sounds, how distorted the thick walls of the bathroom cause his voice to warp. 

He wanted to move, to swing his hips and fall back in time with the music. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, Louis did just that. In a moment he was on his feet and swaying to the strong beat of the song outside, feeling the vibrations through the floor, his soles, up his calves and into his thighs. 

Harry smiled at him faintly, and watched him for a second. “Maybe you’ve heard of The Rolling Stones?” 

Louis didn’t have to think on it too long, because even when he was as high as he’d ever been, and could hardly feel his own skin as he moved, he’d always known good music. The Stones were the best. 

“What’s that got to do with you?” Louis asked, biting at his lip. Still swaying, he placed both of his hands on his hips. 

“Well,” Harry said, tone dropping to a whisper. “I’m their voice.”

Louis’ movement stopped, and he looked at Harry serious this time. The fat lipped man had a mischievous look on his face, but his eyes were more truthful than any human could muster. 

It must have been the drugs clouding Louis’ vision, his ability to recognize. With each passing second, and each feature of Harry’s face being analyzed by Louis’ memory of what The Rolling Stones’ band looked like, everything became clear suddenly. 

“Oh,” Louis said, shoulders slumping. “You  _ are _ a god, then. My bad.” 

Harry’s smile faltered for a moment, and he blinked once, twice. 

“Pardon?”

Louis reached out, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, watching as his fingers curved into the heft of it, digging for bone. “I thought you were mortal for a moment. Obviously I was wrong.”

“Is that a good thing? Being a god?” Harry asked, not minding how Louis’ nails pressed harder. He only smiled, soft and heavy. 

Louis couldn’t help but smile back, feeling utterly unstoppable in the confines of a breach in space and time, locked away from the outside world. With another of his own people, someone just like him, he sighed, euphoric in the moment, and said, “It is.”

For a moment the two just existed, linked by Louis’ fingers. Then, when the dust began to settle, and the next song began to rock through the walls, Harry asked, “Are  _ you _ a god?”

Louis laughed. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Harry mocked, smirking. 

His wide eyes blinked shut a few times, and he leaned into the pressure of Louis’ hand. When Louis spoke again, a gentle, contemplative, “We can pretend to be like them, but they’ll never understand,” Harry pulled his eyes open. 

“Understand what?”

“What it’s like to be holy. Divine.” Louis let his hand fall, and he took a step back. He raised both of his arms above his head, and rolled his head back, reveling in the moment--in the feeling of being alive and dead at the same time, of feeling his heartbeat in the back of his throat.

Harry watched him for a moment more, and when Louis glanced back at him, he stood up and clenched his jaw, features going soft. “That what this feeling is? Divinity?”

“Yeah.” Louis sniffled once, and felt the corner of his lip quirk. “And coke.”

Both of them started to laugh, the noise of it echoing throughout the room. “No fucking joke.” Harry’s posture fell as he sunk into himself, hips starting to move to the song from outside. Louis watched him, unashamed and intrigued like never before. 

Harry was quite ugly, but in a good way. An attractive, taboo way, that made Louis feel drawn to him, or his person, in the oddest sense. 

“Fuck, I feel great right now.” Harry shot his eyes open, and his mouth curled into something devious as he took a step closer. Louis didn’t fight it, just letting Harry grab at his hands and pull him closer, closer, closer. Then, once they were pressed together from knee to chest, Harry whispered, “Come on, let’s dance.” 

And, so, they danced. 


End file.
